From Chains

Chapter 8: Safety

My eyes dart around the room. It's packed with people, and I can't see her. She's so short that she could be hiding behind anyone.

I can't let her get away. I whip out my phone and open the tracking map. It shows that she's still in the mall, but it's not precise enough to tell me where. That tracking bracelet was a cheap piece of crap. Shit. What if she got it off? She could've been pretending that it's been locked while waiting for an opportunity.

I take a deep breath. I need to remain calm. I could catch her if I could just think clearly. My eyes scan the room. Should I guard the exit in case she tries to make a run for it?

No. She could just take another door. Maybe a security guard caught her? Humans aren't allowed to wonder around on their own. I need to find one. I weave my way back into the crowd.

I keep my eyes open, but there are so many people.

I finally find a guard. "Excuse me, sir. Have you caught an unaccompanied human girl? She's about this tall," I put my hand inline with the middle of my chest, "...and has light brown hair."

He shakes his head. "None like that. If we find her, we'll be sure to hang on to her."

"Are you sure? Shouldn't you ask the others over the radio?"

"I am sure."

Crap. I head back into the crowd. Where is she? I was being kind by allowing her to tag along, and this is what I get in return? She'll regret betraying my trust. From now on, she'll spend her days locked up in the truck's cargo hold.

My phone rings. "Hello?"

"Robert?" an unfamiliar voice says. I can barely hear her over the crowd.

"That's me."

"I'm calling from Paul's Kitchen at Maryan Square Mall. We've found your human. Can you come collect her?"

"Yes," I blurt out, "Thank you." I hang up and rush back to the Paul's Kitchen where we just ate.

I soon spot Pip. She's sitting on the floor by the host's feet. They got her. They must have seen her wondering around on her own, and they knew she was supposed to be with me.

I rush over and grab Pip by the arm.

She yelps as I yank her to her feet. She stares at the floor, clearly too ashamed to look me in the eye.

"Thank you so much for catching her," I tell the hostess.

"Catching her?" She has a confused look. "We didn't catch her. She came back here on her own, and she was in quite a state. We searched through the receipts to find your number."

I release her arm. She didn't run?

"Pip?"

"I'm sorry, Master," she cries. "I-I got bumped, then I looked back, and and I couldn't see you anymore. I know it's my fault. I'm sorry."

"It was an accident?"

She nods without looking up.

I thank the hostess again, then head back to the exit.

I stop in my tracks when something latches onto the back of my shirt.

She's hanging onto me. She's worried about being separated again. My hand was right there, but she went for my clothes instead. Holding hands with someone implies that you're equals, and she knows better than to try and grab her master's hand.

The tugging on my shirt is annoying. I grab her hand, and she finally looks up at me. Honestly, I don't mind holding her hand. I'm not concerned about her questioning her place, and she could use the confidence boost.